


on rusted mirrors, and other broken things

by TheSleepingKnight



Category: Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Introspection, Self-Hatred, suicide idealation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 09:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19742752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleepingKnight/pseuds/TheSleepingKnight
Summary: Archer's thoughts, scattered across his time in the Fifth Holy Grail War.





	on rusted mirrors, and other broken things

It’s amazing he can even _look_ at the child without flying into a rage. He cannot believe he was ever so _stupid,_ prattling on about worthless things and the idealism fantasty of a dying man—the audacity to talk about wanting to be a hero while not even a few miles away, Sakura was— (it takes him a second to remember, and bile rises in his throat, half from memory and half from shame. _Sakura…)_

It’s just another thing he’ll make the child suffer for. And he _will_ suffer. He will see that flame in those golden eyes (gold! He had almost forgotten the shade,) broken down and extinguished. It is not enough to merely kill the boy. No, he must break the child’s faith in those foolish ideals, crush the very notion of wanting a be a hero. Only once he had shattered those second-hand beliefs would he kill the boy. And then—

And then it’ll be _over._ At long last, he’ll have peace. 

If he doesn’t, he might go insane. 

(But what was insanity if not doing the same thing over, expecting a different outcome?)

* * *

He had missed Rin. (Rin, _Rin,_ he had almost forgotten the name.) She was nothing if not fire and wit, and trading barbs from a more advantageous position had been...refreshing. 

He had not missed _Lancer_ , the aggravating, annoying, smug battle junkie. Why had he even bothered with that fight? He could have just circumvented it altogether, urged Rin in a different direction, have the boy bleed out in the halls with none the wiser—

But no. That wouldn’t do. 

So, he had to, to his _great_ chagrin, allow the boy to be saved, and ensure his own summoning would be possible. And then—

Her.

 _Saber_. 

His traitorous heart had stirred at seeing her regal face, eyes like carved emeralds staring up at him with a cold gaze. For a moment, he was seventeen again, and the ethereal lights inside the shed danced on her radiant armor, hair seemingly woven from silken gold, and he at last understood the meaning of _starstruck._

And then she was charging, and it is only a millennia of experience that had kept him from screaming, _Saber, wait—_

He had forgotten how strong she was. Her blows were impossibly fast and came at him with a power that her tiny frame shouldn’t have been able to muster, and her eyes were so frozen with anger that he is finding it difficult to breath.

(Saber please don’t make me do this)

He’d seen her fight before, watched her snap and growl and rage, but—

(Stop. Stop…)

He’d never been on the receiving end before. He’d never been the _target._ He’d never—

(Saber please don’t, I—)

For once, the boy’s had naitive saved him. 

He obliterated the thought from his mind with prejudice and focused on calming the panic still blazing in his veins.

He couldn’t let an old flame distract him.

Not even her. 

(Saber…)

* * *

Fighting Hercules was _so much better_ from a distance. One thing Hercules _couldn’t_ do was out-range him, and snipping him from a city away was, well… gratifying, even if he wasn’t doing any real damage to the hulking behemoth.

Oh. He had nearly hit the boy. Oops.

* * *

The longer he spent in the child’s presence, the more his patience was tested. He might end up killing him before he can get to work on his ideals, so _hideous_ is the boy’s existence. How could he even stand his own _hypocrisy,_ not realize the magnitude of his folly? It would be a _kindness_ to kill him, to let him die in the defense of others like he so desperately wanted—

(He? Was he talking about the boy, or—)

He really needed to stop getting so easily lost in thought. His centuries of service had created a habit retreating within himself to block out the screams.

After much deliberation, he decided to let the boy go. Not yet. 

Not...yet.

* * *

Why had he saved the boy?

Why?

_Why why why why why why why why whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy_

It— 

he—

Why would—

He had wanted to do it _himself._ That was it. Yes, that— that was why. He wanted to do the deed personally. He hadn’t felt any kind of obligation to Saber, hadn’t moved on instinct, he was just— Caster!

* * *

No. No more waiting. No more suffering. No more _Shirou Emiya._

He carved out the child’s back, savoring the sight of blood for the first time in millennia. Crimson. A color he was infinitely familiar with. He’d filled an ocean’s worth of it. He often wondered if the ever-present smell of copper on the air was blood, not the swords he’d surrounded himself with. He’d become so used to it… 

Ah. The boy was trying to crawl away. He’d made it farther then Archer had expected him to.

No matter. This was over. 

* * *

Stupid. Idiotic. Short-sighted _fool._ If he hadn’t bothered with _words,_ it would be over, and **he** would be dead. Why had he bothered? Why had he _talked?_ Was he really so desperate to say the words he’d been screaming in his mind for so long that he’d thrown away his best chance to end his pain?

Of course he had. What else was to be expected from a failure of a hero like him? Stupid, stupid stupid! Now, Rin’s goddamned command seals were binding him from hurting the boy. 

That wasn’t acceptable. If Rin’s misguided heart would stand in his way… 

Then he would have to cut himself loose. He’d spared Caster for a reason, after all. Rin wouldn’t let a slight like that stand, and he’d take an opportunity to free himself. 

It wasn’t a betrayal. Not really.

He’d never been on her side in the first place. 

* * *

Yes, he had lost an opportunity to kill the boy.

But… 

Rin didn’t deserve to die here. Only he did.

So… 

It was fine.

After all, the boy would be back. And when he was… 

It would be over. 

* * *

Lancer was a fucking annoyance. 

* * *

He may, on second thought, have underestimated both Saber and Rin. 

And, possibly, ever so slightly, the boy. He hadn’t expected him to pick up tracing so fast, and that little stunt of his had cost quite a bit of mana- more than he could afford, honestly.

Typical. Always overextending, giving too much… 

He _really_ didn’t want to have to do this, but… 

Well. Drastic times called for drastic measures. The boy was enamored with Rin, so… 

He would follow. And then he would die. 

* * *

If he hadn’t already seen hell, this would be his definitive moment of damnation. He was leaving Rin alone with Gilgamesh and _Shinji_ . One hero (Archer thought the term was far too generous) who was famous for claiming a “king’s privilage” and forcibly bedding women, and Shinji, who— who—

He fought to keep the bile down and the disgust off his face. 

Gilgamesh...he wouldn’t touch Rin. He was obsessed with Saber, and— and he would never take another woman while she was unclaimed. It would ruin it for him. He’d waited fifteen years, after all. His pride and twisted way of looking at the world wouldn’t allow it. 

And—Shinji would waste time gloating. He was a cowardly worm, and he’d take any opportunity to stoke his own fragile ego. And, at the very least, Gilgamesh was a man of his word. He'd hold himself and Shinji to the agreement. Besides, the fight with the boy wouldn’t take too long. He’d try to convince him to end himself, and if that didn’t work, stab his bleeding heart. Then Saber could rescue Rin quite easily. 

And everyone would win. 

The world would be better off without a broken thing like Emiya Shirou in it. 

Archer walked down the stairs, wondering why the sound of his footfall on these steps sounded oddly familiar.

Had he been here before? He didn’t remember.

There were a lot of things he didn’t remember anymore. Lots of pieces of himself he’d given away to save humanity, and somehow there was always a little more innocence left to lose. A little more of his soul, stripped away and sterilized of memory for the betterment of the human race. 

He had to do this. He had to do this before it was too late and he became completely dead to everything. 

He would destroy his own ideal. 

And he would be free. 

* * *

It’s really too cruel, forcing him to look into a rusted mirror like this, stained with sunlight and idealism. 

_I’ll become one for you!_

He raised the blade, his hands shaking.

_Leave it to me!_

A small smile under the moonlit sky. 

A promise.

An Oath. 

_…there really.._

A tear, unbidden and unheard, slipped out of his eye.

_Was such a man once, wasn’t there?_

The blade felt like release. 

**Author's Note:**

> In the end, he wasn't wrong.


End file.
